


Slowly, Then All At Once

by boywholivednotdied



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series, kind of a love-hate relationship thing, lots of Pynch bickering, lots of Ronan being oblivious to his own feelings, pre-TRB, pre-slash i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 00:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8822635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boywholivednotdied/pseuds/boywholivednotdied
Summary: Ronan has always managed to chase away any person hoping to be friends with Gansey. Adam Parrish should not be any different.a.k.a a bunch of Pre-TRB Pynch scenesa.k.a I was frustrated that we never got a canon Pynch first-meeting, so this happened





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is set pre-TRB, from Adam and Ronan's first meeting all the way to when Ronan kind of starts falling for Adam. Warnings: A lot of swearing, mentions of Adam's abuse, mentions of Ronan's night horror dream incident. 
> 
> I do not speak Latin, so if the Latin in this is horribly wrong, I apologise. Google Translate is kind of crap. 
> 
> Super enormous thanks to the wonderful alwaysemrys and thelynchbros for beta reading this!

**Day One**

When they walked into Latin class on that unbearably hot almost-summer morning, Ronan didn’t realise they’d come in together. He was too busy using a rubber band as a makeshift slingshot, and aiming a piece of chalk at the back of Whelk’s head. He spared Gansey only a brief glance when he sat down. 

But then Parrish sat down behind them. Ronan did a double-take, his rubber band falling uselessly from his fingers. 

Ronan normally would have said something along the lines of “ _What the fuck are doing here?”_ or _“Are you lost, Parrish?”_ but he found himself too shocked by his proximity to do anything but glare at him. Parrish, for his part, ignored Ronan. He looked fixedly at the chalkboard, his lips pressed in a thin line, his brow furrowed as though he was trying to telepathically communicate with Whelk’s greasy hair. 

“Ronan,” Gansey said. “You know Adam Parrish?” 

Ronan didn’t notice much, but he’d noticed Parrish from the first moment he’d slunk into class with his tie perfectly knotted and his sweater too loose around the shoulders. He’d looked out of place, which was a surefire way to snag Ronan’s attention. Parrish hadn’t said anything to anyone, simply slipped into a corner, sat down and proceeded to bury his nose into the book. 

Even back then, from all the way across the room, Ronan could smell the poverty on him. The hem of his sweater was fraying, and his hands were dry and chapped. Ronan watched him the entire class, watched the way he listened to Whelk, his eyebrows laced with a serious concentration, his long fingers clenching his pen as he scribbled down notes. The class had ended, and Ronan had come away still mystified over what the new kid’s deal was. A couple of days later he’d found out. Adam Parrish was, as Kavinsky so eloquently put it, ‘scholarship trailer trash.’ 

Ronan didn’t really care about that. Well, not the trailer part. Parrish could have been from Mars for all he cared. In fact, if you asked Ronan, they needed fewer rich assholes roaming the halls of Aglionby. No, it was more about the ‘scholarship’ thing. What annoyed him was way Parrish was always getting the answers right in Latin class. What annoyed him was that joke Whelk had made about Ronan having ‘competition.’

Ronan didn’t have competition. Certainly not from Adam freaking Parrish with his doe eyes and dark eyelashes. He looked like a complete and utter loser. And yet with no previous formal studies in Latin, he was almost as good as Ronan was. The worst part was that Ronan couldn’t counteract it. Working hard at Latin would make it obvious he gave a shit. Which he didn’t. He wasn’t like Parrish, he didn’t give a fuck about grades. But that didn’t lessen the revulsion he felt every time he saw Parrish around. Though he was sure Parrish was completely oblivious to the rivalry between them that was taking place in Ronan’s mind. 

A fact that was getting increasingly debatable with each second that Parrish coolly ignored Ronan, eyes tracing the words Whelk was writing on the blackboard.

Gansey was still talking. Ronan grimaced at him, but Gansey ignored him. 

“He helped me this morning,” he was saying. “The Pig broke down and Adam stopped and fixed it for me. Isn’t that astounding?” Gansey gripped Parrish’s shoulder tightly and beamed at him. 

Parrish turned towards Ronan then, blue eyes alighting on him like a spotlight. Ronan felt hot under their gaze. 

“Yes, truly mind-blowing.” Ronan said, imitating Gansey’s accent. “That still doesn’t explain what he’s doing here. Doesn’t he normally sit all the way the fuck over there in the loser corner?” 

Gansey frowned. Parrish’s eyes flashed. For six weeks Ronan had seen the pitiful creature do nothing but hunch over his books or peer jealously as Gansey bumped knuckles with the other boys. Yet now, as he looked at Ronan, there was some sort of cold, confident fury in his expression. Ronan returned the narrowed eyed look. 

“Et coniungit principes rusticus,” he said, snidely. _So the peasant joins the princes._

Gansey was constantly picking up strays, but out of all the pathetic people to take under his wing, did he really have to choose _this_ one?

Gansey pressed a thumb to his lips. “What did he say?” he asked Parrish. 

“He said it was cool that I fixed your car.” 

Gansey’s mouth fell open in an expression of pure bewilderment. 

“I did not,” Ronan snapped, his thoughts a jumble of smug triumph and irritation. 

Parrish blinked innocently at him, blue eyes round. “You didn’t? Sorry, my Latin is a bit rusty. What did you say?” 

Ronan was sure he was red now. Gansey would freak the fuck out if he knew what he’d just said to Parrish. Gansey was always getting on Ronan’s case to be nicer to people, and he would be appalled to know that Ronan had just called Parrish a peasant. Even if it was a completely true statement. 

Gansey looked at him curiously. “What did you say Ronan?” 

“I said Parrish smells,” he said. 

“But you said _principes._ Doesn’t that mean ‘leaders’ or ‘princes’?” Parrish asked. “Were you calling yourself a prince?” 

Gansey cocked an eyebrow. Ronan scoffed, feeling his face warm. 

“Or were you saying leader?” Parrish pressed. “Were you were calling yourself my leader?” 

“The fuck would I say that?” 

“Ronan,” Gansey said, warningly. 

Ronan crossed his arms, the image of a petulant child. Parrish looked down at the book on his desk, but Ronan caught the corner of his lip quirk. 

_He knew._ He’d understood what Ronan had said, and he was acting dumb. Because he’d been watching Gansey and knew it was the kind of behaviour he wouldn't stand for. Fury was simmering around inside Ronan now, threatening to bubble up and splash out.

When Ronan didn’t say anything, Gansey sighed and shook his head. 

“Knowing Ronan it was probably something insulting,” he said. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Parrish said. “It doesn’t bother me.” 

He gave Ronan another half-smile. Ronan wanted to punch him in his stupid face. He was all neat hair and politeness and Southern charm. Ronan could hear a Henrietta accent straining against his words, struggling to get out. He even sounded like a fucking peasant. 

Ronan scoffed, not wanting to give Parrish the satisfaction of seeing his irritation, and pushed his chair back. He rested his feet up on the desk. Parrish gave his shoes a disdainful glance. Ronan had expected that reaction. Hoped for it. He knew Parrish with his neatly ironed shirts and spotless shoes did not like carelessness. Whelk turned around, spotted Ronan, opened his mouth then rolled his eyes and turned back around. Ronan smirked at Parrish. 

“Ronan, put your feet down,” Gansey muttered. 

Ronan clenched his jaw, but eventually put his feet back on the ground. Now it was Parrish’s turn to smirk at him. Ronan flipped him off. Gansey rolled his eyes, and then bent over to get his notebook out of his bag. Parrish leaned over his desk so that his lips were almost brushing Ronan’s ear. 

“The only kind of prince you are is prince of the assholes.” 

The fury spilled over, burning his insides. Ronan thumped his desk with a fist. Gansey jerked upright. 

“Jesus Christ, Ronan,” he said. “What’s the matter with you?” 

_It’s just temporary_ , Ronan reminded himself. _He’ll be gone soon._

“Thank you, Mr.Lynch,” Whelk said, noting that Ronan’s feet were firmly back on the floor. “I’d like to remind all of you that this isn’t your living room. Please don’t get comfortable.” 

Adam Parrish wasn’t his competition. Not for Latin, and certainly not for Gansey’s affections. Adam Parrish was just the latest person on the list of people who underestimated Ronan Lynch. Adam Parrish was a fly that was pestering him, but the solution was simple. As with everyone else who’d tried to invade Gansey and Ronan’s space in the past,  Ronan was going to get rid of him.  His all time record to get rid of someone who'd latched onto Gansey was a hundred days, and that was only because of that prick Wilson who'd been ridiculously determined to get involved in politics and believed Gansey's connections would somehow help him. He'd eventually moved to a different town. Whether that was because of Ronan or not was debatable. Ronan didn't think it would take even a week with a loser like Parrish. 

“You hear that Parrish?” Ronan said, folding his arms behind his head so he was blocking Parrish’s view of the board. “Don’t get comfortable.”

**Days until Adam Parrish leaves their lives for good: 100**

 

**Day Twenty-Four**

Ronan was pretty much an asshole to everyone he met, but he made sure he was even more of an asshole than usual to Parrish. It was surprisingly easy. Being a douchebag was almost like a reflex when Parrish was around, and Ronan tried to never miss an opportunity to insult him. He’d call him names, mock his accent in an overly exaggerated way, jostle him in the lunch line, and say horrendous things about his clothes in Latin. 

None of it fucking worked. The ruder Ronan was to him, the more stubborn Adam seemed about staying Gansey’s friend. In fact, instead of being scared of Ronan like most people, he’d fire back by saying snarky things that were as piercing as they were capable of deflecting every damn thing Ronan said. It was undeniable that Parrish was constantly fatigued by Ronan’s presence, yet he refused to budge. He clung onto his friendship with Gansey with a vice-like grip, and Ronan couldn’t understand it. Why was he willing to withstand Ronan’s constant abuse just to be around Gansey? What was he hoping to get out of this? 

Gansey tried to keep them apart, but it was hard, because where Gansey went, Ronan went. To let Gansey have time alone with Parrish was to let Parrish win. And Parrish wasn’t going to win. 

And then Gansey invited him along on one of their Glendower hunts. Which is when it became apparent to Ronan that he might actually be losing. 

He sat in the passenger seat of the Pig, arms crossed tightly as he glared at every tree they passed on the way to Parrish’s ‘house.’ Noah sat in the backseat, humming under his breath. Gansey stopped the car by a cluster of mailboxes. 

“Parrish said he’d meet us here,” he said to Ronan. “Things didn’t go so well last time I went all the way to his house.” 

Ronan raised an eyebrow. Despite how disgruntled he was at having to spend another forsaken evening with Adam Parrish, his interest was piqued. Noah leaned over the seats to listen. 

“His father came out of the house and started cursing at me,” Gansey said. He shoved his glasses up on his nose. “I think he was offended by my Aglionby sweater.” 

Ronan snorted. “You’re a soft, rich fucker if I ever saw one, man.” 

Gansey glared at him. “I didn’t stop going because of me, I stopped going because of Adam.” 

“Parrish being a baby about it?” Ronan asked. But looking at the dusty road, the two ruts in the field that led to where Parrish supposedly lived, he felt like he understood something about Adam that he hadn’t understood before. 

He spotted Parrish then. He was walking through the fields, a blur in the dusty air. He was wearing a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans, despite the blazing Virgina heat. Ronan threw him a cool look, but didn’t greet him. Parrish bumped knuckles with Gansey, and smiled at Noah. 

“Lynch,” he said. He cast a disapproving look at the stubble Ronan had grown. “You look like a convict.”

Ronan snarled in response. Adam slumped down into the backseat beside Noah, and closed his eyes. 

“It was cooler in the morning,” he said. “We should have left earlier.” 

“We couldn’t,” Gansey said. “Ronan had to go to church.” 

Ronan could feel Parrish’s surprise like a hand around his throat. He kept his eyes fixed firmly out the window. 

As they always did when they were searching for Glendower, they drove out to the middle of buttfuck nowhere. Noah was the first one out of the car. He vanished into the woods, probably chasing a butterfly or some shit. Ronan perched on the edge of a rock, inspecting his nails while Gansey pulled out a willow divining rod and an electromagnetic-frequency reader from the trunk. He handed the divining rod to Parrish and then held up the reader so Adam could see it. Slowly, he explained the buttons and readings to Parrish, who nodded like the dedicated schoolboy he was. Ronan had to suppress a snort. 

Gansey called out to Ronan to help, but Ronan retorted that if Noah wasn’t helping, he sure as fuck wasn’t about to either. He lay down on the ground and stared up at the bright sky, the sunlight blinding him as it streamed through the clouds. For a moment, it helped Ronan forget that he wasn’t back at the Barns. That he couldn’t go back. 

Gansey and Parrish spent a good few hours swapping the instruments between themselves, Gansey droning on about sleepers and ravens. Noah returned from the forest and sat down besides Ronan. 

“We should build a ramp,” he said. “For a skateboard.” 

“For a car.” 

Noah turned to him, mouth hanging open. “Yeah!” 

Noah’s enthusiasm had always been contagious. “Fuck yeah,” Ronan said, grinning. 

He sat up, excitement surging through him. A ramp. A huge motherfucking ramp. One that was going to send them to the damn moon. He could see it now. 

They would need plywood. Lots of plywood. 

He turned to Noah, only to see that his attention had drifted. Ronan followed his gaze and itlanded on Parrish, who was hovering near by, his eyes filled with that tortured look that seemed to be his natural expression. 

“He really believes in this, doesn’t he?” Parrish asked. “This Glendower thing?” 

Ronan wasn’t sure if he was talking to them or himself. 

“He does,” Ronan said. His voice was fiercer than he’d intended. 

Parrish turned to him. He looked disoriented. 

Ronan’s muscles tensed. He didn’t care about Glendower, but he cared a fuck of a lot about Gansey. Parrish could insult Ronan all he wanted, but no one was allowed to mock Richard Campbell Gansey III. No one.

Parrish blinked at the two of them for a moment. 

“He’s so…” Parrish murmured. He shook his head slightly. “I’ve never met anyone like him.”

Realisation hit Ronan like a punch to the gut. Parrish wasn’t making fun of Gansey. He was in awe of him. He was amazed by him, endeared by him even. The expression he wore now wasthe expression Ronan was sure he himself wore around Gansey. He stared back at Parrish, and for a moment he felt like he could read his thoughts, read the look in his eyes. The look that said, _you are so lucky._

Ronan hadn’t felt lucky in a long time. 

Then Parrish stiffened and turned away, ducking his head. He headed back towards where Gansey was standing over a pile of rocks. Ronan watched him crouch down besides Gansey, back muscles visible through the now-translucent material of his sweaty shirt. 

“I can’t fucking stand him,” Ronan muttered, his lip curling in scorn.

“I like him,” Noah said. “He’s cute.” 

Ronan turned to Noah, glowering at him. “Cute?” 

Noah shrugged. “He’s so serious. I like it.” 

“You’re fucking crazy.” 

“You shouldn’t swear so much.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Ronan lay back down on the ground and squeezed his eyes shut. The hours wore on. The instruments remained utterly un-reactive except for a few short spikes in the readings. Finally when darkness swept down on them, casting everything in shadows, Gansey gave up. As he dejectedly packed everything into the trunk of his car, Adam clambered into the passenger seat. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ronan demanded. 

Parrish looked up at him, fair eyebrows rising to his hairline. “Sitting in the car?” 

“That’s my spot.” 

Parrish swivelled so he was looking at the headrest. “Doesn’t have your name on it.”

“Don’t be a little shit, Parrish. I always sit there.” 

Adam turned back around, resting his head on the seat. He glanced at Ronan out of the corner of his eye. All of the wonder from before was gone from his expression, replaced with that look of aggravating tenacity Ronan had almost gotten used to. Parrish’s lips quirked. “Maybe it’s time for a change.” 

Noah smirked at Ronan as he got into the back seat, swearing loudly under his breath. _Cute, my ass_. Adam Parrish was the devil.

** Days until Adam Parrish leaves their lives for good: 76 **

 

**Day Forty-Six**

Ronan hated change. He’d had plenty of it in his life. Change that came in overwhelming waves that swept him up and sent him hurtling into an uncertain future. He wasn’t keen on letting that happen this time. Not again. Adam Parrish may be the wave that was threatening to send him careening back into the sea, but this time he was holding on to the shore for dear life. He continued his constant harassment of Parrish, which much to his chagrin, still seemed to have no effect whatsoever on him. Parrish really was one stubborn fucker. 

“Ronan,” Gansey said, one night when they were waiting in Nino’s for Parrish to show up. “You know I’m not going to leave you, right?” 

“Don’t be gay, Gansey,” Ronan muttered, but the words quelled something hot and angry within him. He took a sip of his soda. 

“I really like Adam,” Gansey pressed on. “Please, just try to make it work with him.” 

“I can’t fucking stand him,” Ronan said. He tugged at the bands on his wrist with his teeth. 

“Why does he bother you so much?” Gansey asked. 

Gansey was different around Parrish, that’s why. He was no longer the Gansey Ronan knew. He wasn’t the wild Gansey that emerged at nights when they were up late, drinking beer and lounging in Monmouth. He wasn’t the Gansey that had ants under his skin, the Gansey who climbed over fences and drove a little too fast. Reckless Gansey. Heedless Gansey. No, when he was around Parrish, it was like Gansey was trying too hard to be the Gansey Adam Parrish wanted him to be. It made Ronan want to tear the world apart. 

“What is so goddamn special about Parrish anyway?” Ronan asked, his voice venomous. “He’s boring.” 

“He’s not boring,” Gansey snapped. “He’s intelligent, and hardworking, and clever. Do you know he pays his own way through school? He works _three_ jobs. If you didn’t spend all your time insulting him, maybe you’d discover that he’s actually someone worthy of your admiration.” 

Ronan snorted. “Unless he can lift a car with his bare hands he isn’t worthy of my admiration.” 

“No one you know can do that.” 

“Exactly.” 

Gansey rolled his eyes, but he didn’t have time to say anything more before Parrish walked in. Parrish bumped knuckles with Gansey and gave Ronan a vaguely distasteful look before sitting down across from him. Ronan noted the dark bags under his eyes before turning back to his food. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Adam asked. 

“What a fucking loser you are,” Ronan said. 

Parrish curled his lip, but there was more exhaustion in the gesture than heat. Ronan quirked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. 

“Are you alright?” Gansey asked. 

Parrish plucked at his sleeve, forcing a smile that didn’t seem to fit on his face. 

“Of course,” he said, so brightly that it was obvious he was lying. “Just tired. From work.” He gave Ronan a pointed look as if to say that some people actually did work. Ronan snarled at him. 

“Lusus naturae,” Ronan muttered. _Freak._

“Vappa ac nebulo,” Parrish retorted. _Scumbag._

Gansey ignored the two of them. Parrish glanced around the café looking for the waitress. Probably to order water. Ronan had noticed that Adam barely ate anything, even though he always looked hungry. 

Gansey started talking about Glendower again, something about stones and inscriptions. His voice tangled with Ronan’s thoughts, only half-registering. He wished Noah was here to be idiotic and bubbly as always, but their roommate had been gloomy this morning, and didn’t want to join them. Ronan understood. He didn’t particularly want to be sitting across from Parrish while Gansey rattled off facts about Wales either. Ronan’s mind drifted to the Barns, the way it smelled, his mother’s smile. His heart began to ache. It was only when he spotted the purple bruise on Parrish’s wrist when his attention was brought back to the present. 

“What’s that?” he demanded. 

Gansey was no longer at the table. He must have gone to the bathroom. Parrish jerked, dropping the glass he was holding. Water spilled all over the wooden table. Adam swore and tugged at his sleeve, his face turning red. 

Ronan felt a strange delight at hearing him say the word _fuck._ He watched Adam dab at the table with napkins, his ears still bright pink. 

“Is that a bruise?” Ronan asked. “Damn, Parrish. You get into a fight?” 

Adam’s face was gray now. Something poked at the back of Ronan’s mind, tugged at his thoughts, told him to back the fuck off. It was warring with his need to make Parrish uncomfortable. He let the war rage on for a while, then eventually resisted the urge to keep quiet. “Don’t tell me you’re secretly a badass street fighter or some shit.” 

“Drop it,” Adam said. His voice was so steely, it rattled Ronan. 

His back grew rigid. “Is someone hurting you, Parrish?” he asked. His voice so was serious, it was almost unrecognisable. 

Adam stared at him. Ronan remembered the time Tad Carruthers slammed his desk shut, causing Parrish to practically fall off his chair. Ronan had laughed about it then, but now it made his heart seize. 

“No,” Parrish said. 

“Who is it?” 

“I said it’s no one.” He bit into a slice of pizza. His eyes were growing glassy. Ronan knew that look. He'd seen it on Declan’s face every day since their father had died. That was the look of someone suppressing pain. 

“If someone’s hurting you then you should say something,” he said. “Tell a fucking teacher or some shit.” 

“You don’t know anything about it, Lynch. Just back off. It’s none of your business,” Adam’s voice was brittle now.

Ronan felt something hot and raw lick his insides. “Does Gansey know?”

“No. And he’s not going to find out,” Adam said. He frowned down at his shoes, his teeth gritted, his voice still chilly. “Don’t say anything.” 

Ronan nodded. “Ok,” he said. Parrish looked up, deep blue eyes muddled. “Your business is your business,” Ronan said. Even as he said it, he remembered what Gansey had said about Adam’s father. About his temper. Ronan knew what people in Henrietta were like. He knew how many of them had guns. “But if you ever want someone to teach you how to fight…” 

Adam scoffed. “Don’t pretend like you care about me, Lynch. Gansey might get the wrong idea.” 

“You shouldn’t let them get away with it,” Ronan said. 

“Thanks for the tip,” Parrish said, sarcastic as always. 

Gansey returned, saying something about writing on the wall of the bathroom and Ronan’s phone number, and Ronan and Adam went back to cold glances and shallow insults. But Adam’s words no longer seemed to sting. 

**Days until Adam Parrish leaves their lives for good: 54**

 

**Day Sixty-Seven**

English was probably the class that Ronan hated the most. Mostly because Adam was in that class, and Gansey was not. He and Parrish would sit on opposite ends of the classroom and glare at each other the entire lesson, Ronan throwing paper airplanes with insults written on them at him whenever Milo turned his back on them. But Parrish had slowly learned his lesson, and no longer opened up the paper airplanes. He’d learned to dodge the balls of paper and flying erasers when he felt them coming at him. The minor irritations no longer seemed to be enough to frustrate him. 

One day, Ronan walked into class and shoved Tad Carruthers out of the way so he could sit beside Adam. 

“You look particularly pathetic today, Parrish,” Ronan said, dropping his pen onto the desk. 

Adam gave him a horrified look, which made the idea of having to sit beside him for a whole class almost worth it. Ronan dropped down into the chair, propping his feet up on the desk. 

“You are such a neanderthal,” Parrish muttered, pulling his books out of his bag. 

“Parrish,” said a cool voice.  The two of them looked up to see Whitman standing beside Ronan’s desk, leaning against it in his casual, aloof way. He shot Parrish a wide smile. “Did I mention that I went to my country house this weekend? It was wonderful. The perfect weather for a swim in the sea.” 

He laughed, a booming laugh that would have seemed out of place anywhere but Aglionby. Ronan glanced between Whitman and Parrish, wondering what was going on. The look on Parrish’s face confirmed that he too had no idea what he was on about, but the guarded look in his eyes spoke volumes about his previous interactions with Whitman. 

Ronan turned back to Whitman, baring his teeth. “You going to stand there like an asshole all day?” 

Whitman sniffed at Ronan, and then turned back to Adam. “My mother stayed home while we were at the country house. To do spring cleaning. You know how it is.” 

Ronan and Parrish both stared blankly back at him. Whitman cleared his throat. “She’s a housewife, that’s her job.” He clarified. When neither of them responded except for the disgusted look Ronan sent him, he continued. “She said that she would like me to get rid of several of my clothes. I thought I would offer them to you first, see if you wanted them?” 

Even though Parrish had been utterly unfazed by everything Ronan had said to him in the past, Ronan noticed that if anyone else said anything even vaguely insulting to him, Parrish looked like he’d been ripped up and stepped on. Ronan had wondered why he - of all goddamn people - was the only exception to this rule. 

He realised now that maybe it was because even though he was a total asshole, he didn’t have the audacity to offer a classmate his hand-me-downs. Ronan felt Adam stiffen beside him. He knew that if he turned around, Parrish’s ears would be bright red, his cheeks splotchy with anger and humiliation. _To really get rid of Parrish_ , he realised, _this is what I have to do_. He had to shame him. Humiliate him. Make him feel like he wasn’t worth even a minute of Gansey’s attention. Ronan could do it right now. He could laugh and agree with Whitman, offer Parrish his old clothes as well. Or even worse, he could make a joke about how trailer trash didn’t deserve something as fancy as Whitman’s old clothes. 

He heard Parrish take a shaky breath, preparing for a cold shutdown, no doubt. 

“Fuck off, Whitman,” Ronan said. “No one wants your shit hand-me-downs.” 

Whitman looked taken aback. “I wasn’t…” 

“I bet Parrish would rather walk around butt-naked than risk being seen in your douchey pink shorts and shit.” 

“They’re salmon,” Whitman said, witheringly. 

“Who the fuck cares.” Ronan waved a hand at him, dismissing him. Whitman glared at Ronan, and then looked at Parrish. Then he sniffed again and stormed away. 

When Ronan turned, he saw that Parrish was glaring at Whitman’s back, his ears as bright and pink as Ronan predicted. Adam’s expression was complicated when he met Ronan’s gaze, but there was something softer in his eyes now. Ronan’s gut stirred strangely. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” Ronan grumbled. “I didn’t do that for you. Whitman’s a tool.” 

“Yeah,” Parrish agreed. “He’s a dick.” 

“They’re _salmon,_ ” Ronan mimicked, in a high-pitched exaggerated version of Whitman’s accent. 

Adam said nothing, but from the corner of his eye Ronan thought he saw him smile. Ronan snatched a piece of paper out of his bag and started writing down a horrendously offensive poem about Parrish’s hair. 

**Days until Adam Parrish leaves their lives for good: 33**

 

**Day Eighty-Four**

“What’s up with you and trailer trash?” Kavinsky asked him. Ronan was leaning against his car, watching the smoke spill from Kavinsky’s lips. They had just finished racing, both of them dishevelled and spiked with adrenaline. Ronan’s heart was pumping furiously in his chest. He almost flared up, but he caught himself. Kavinsky was just insulting Parrish, something Ronan did constantly. But it sounded uglier coming from Kavinsky. Ronan pushed the thought aside. 

“It’s got nothing to do with me,” he said. “He’s Gansey’s new pet project.” 

“It’s a project that's been going on for a while now though, isn't it?” Kavinsky cocked an eyebrow. “You jealous? That Dick’s got himself another dog?” 

“Fuck off, man,” Ronan grumbled. He took a swig of the beer in his hand. That was another thing he couldn’t stand about Adam, he reminded himself. The bastard didn’t drink. Ronan had a feeling he knew why, but he pushed it aside. He probably didn’t drink because he was a boring pretentious asshole who thought he was better than everyone else. _Fuck him_. 

“Definition of white trash if I ever saw it,” Kavinsky observed. He put the cigarette to his lips and took another long drag. He blew smoke into Ronan’s eyes and made them burn. “Every time he puts his goddamn hand up in class, I think about breaking those pretty fucking fingers of his. You’ve got the patience of a bleeding saint to be able to put up with that dick sucker.” 

Ronan took another gulp of his beer. His mind was buzzing now, fuzzy thoughts that were getting thicker and hotter by the second. The surface of his skin was burning. 

“He’s fine,” Ronan said. 

Kavinsky snorted. “You really are a loyal dog, Lynch. Dick tells you to bark, you bark. Dick tells you that trailer trash is good enough to be your friend, you accept it. You’re goddamn pathetic, man.” 

“Fuck you,” Ronan spat. He finished the last of his beer and then threw the empty bottle at Kavinsky’s feet. “I’m out,” he said. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Kavinsky called out after him. 

Ronan wasn’t sure why he was getting so angry. Kavinsky was always digging at him. This is what they did. They spouted insults back and forth. Kavinsky made jokes about him being Gansey’s dog, about him wanting to fuck Gansey. It had never bothered him before. That was just who Kavinsky was. But now, looking at him standing there with his school shirt untucked and his tie loose around his neck, all Ronan wanted to do was punch him in that fucking crooked nose of his. He wanted to throttle him with his own fucking tie.

Kavinsky yelled after him again, but Ronan ignored him. He began driving, faster and faster till the wind was cooling his skin and soothing his thoughts, till the burning in his eyes was because of dust flying in his face, and not whatever the fuck had happened back there. When he got home, it was dark and suffocating, and Ronan’s thoughts were muffled and nonsensical. Adam was sitting in the living room beside Gansey’s model of Henrietta, reading from some notes, chewing on his bottom lip. He glanced up at Ronan as he walked in. The gloomy light from above made his blue eyes look darker than usual. For a disorienting moment, Ronan felt like he was drowning in them. 

“Ronan?” Adam asked, alarmed. He squinted at him. “Where have you… are you drunk?”

“Fuck do you care, Parrish?” 

Adam gave him a once-over, his mouth still agape. Ronan suddenly felt exposed, like a live wire. Electricity crackled over his skin. 

“Were you driving?” Adam asked. 

In response, Ronan threw his keys into Adam’s lap. Adam gave him a withering look. “You asshole,” he seethed. “You can barely walk straight. You could have died.” 

Ronan shrugged. He started sauntering back to his room. Adam leapt to his feet. “Gansey was worried sick about you!” he called after him. “He’s gone down to Nino’s to try and find you… You weren’t answering your goddamn phone. He thought…” 

Ronan whipped around so fast that Adam reeled backwards. “What did he think?” Ronan asked, jaw clenched. 

Adam’s eyes widened. Ronan’s gut churned. The entire world tilted sharply to the right. Gansey had told him about the time Noah found him covered in blood. Adam knew the story. Or at least the version of the story Gansey and the people in the hospital had concocted in order to make sense of the incident. 

One more person who thought Ronan Lynch had tried to kill himself. 

That’s why Adam was here, waiting to see if Ronan would come back. That’s why he was out so late even though he knew was going to get in serious trouble with his father for it. One more person roped into the let’s-monitor-Ronan-Lynch party. Ronan fished out his phone from his pocket and threw it at Adam. 

“Tell Gansey I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” he said. 

Adam swallowed hard, and Ronan’s eyes drifted to his neck, watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down. He turned on his heel, his chest feeling oddly tight. 

“Don’t do that again, Ronan,” Adam said, softly. 

“What’s it to you, Parrish?” he asked.

“You’re unbearable, but I don’t want you to fucking die.” 

Ronan’s heart stuttered. He ground his teeth. “Just fuck off and leave me alone.” 

He slammed the door so hard he was sure it left Adam shaking. 

  **Days until Adam Parrish leaves their lives for good: 16**

 

**Day Ninety-One**

Ronan didn’t see Adam the next day. Or the day after that. Or the entire week. It was summer break, and Gansey claimed that Adam was doing double shifts at the garage. Really, Adam could have been avoiding him. Not that Ronan cared. Still, it was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Had he finally driven Adam over the edge? Had Ronan played out Adam’s worst nightmare - the violent man coming home at the peak of the night, so drunk he could barely walk, but still vicious enough to hurt? Had he scared Adam away? 

_This is what you wanted_ , he reminded himself. _You wanted him gone. You did it._

He considered driving over to Adam’s house. Maybe something had happened. Not that he cared. He couldn’t stop picturing the bruises on his arms. He couldn’t stop thinking about his fingers. 

Ronan was sitting on the hood of his car in the parking lot of the grocery store, sweating furiously in the heat as Gansey bought milk or some shit from inside. His eyes were closed, but he was forcing himself not to doze off, not to dream. His half conscious thoughts drifted to Adam, sunlight streaming through his dusty brown hair. He thought of the frightened look in his eyes right before he slammed the door in his face. 

The smell of gasoline made his heart thud in his chest. 

“Hey,” a deep voice said. 

His eyes flew open. Adam was standing beside the car, dusty hair falling across his forehead in a way that it normally didn’t do, like he’d been running his fingers through it. Adam shoved it out of his eyes. He looked messy. He was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, and his arms were covered in grease spots and bruises. Ronan had never seen Adam in a short-sleeved t-shirt before. The muscles were a surprise. Though they shouldn’t have been, given that Adam worked as a mechanic. Those fuckers had to be strong. Still, Ronan couldn’t really seem to tear his eyes away from the taut skin. 

“Where’s Gansey?” Adam asked. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Ronan asked him. “Why do you look like shit?” 

“Nice to see you too, Ronan,” Adam said, rolling his eyes. He rubbed at a grease spot on his arm. “He asked me to meet you guys here,” he said, by way of explanation. He waited, and Ronan said nothing. Adam raised his eyebrows. 

“What?” he asked, “No exaggerated groans?” 

“Nah,” Ronan said. “You were expecting it that time. Got to keep it fresh.” He bit his lip, then spat. “Where the hell have you been?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I haven’t seen you in a goddamn week, Adam.” 

Adam quirked an eyebrow at Ronan’s use of his name, but said nothing. Ronan suddenly felt embarrassed. 

“I was working extra shifts at Boyd’s,” he said. “I thought Gansey told you?” 

_I thought you were fucking lying to him. I thought you were fucking avoiding me. I thought I had finally scared you off and I fucking hated every minute of it_. Ronan hopped off the car and stretched. 

“I’m bored,” he proclaimed. 

Adam gestured towards the store. “We could go in and help him? They are _your_ groceries.” 

“I’d rather chop my balls off,” Ronan said. 

Adam laughed soundlessly. Ronan’s pulse quickened. 

“I have an idea,” Ronan said. “Follow me.” 

Adam gave him a weary look, but followed him anyway. Ronan kicked the tires of every car he passed as he made his way across the parking lot to where the grocery carts were kept. He grabbed one and tested it on the ground. 

Adam watched him, mouth pressed thin, his expression studious as always. Ronan nodded towards the parking lot. 

“Pretty good trajectory,” he said. “If we crash we’ll crash into that shitty Toyota, so it’s all good.” 

“I’m sorry,” Adam said. “What are we doing?” 

Ronan grinned, showing off his teeth. Adam’s eyes widened. “Hell no.” 

“Get in, Parrish,” he said. “Don’t make this ugly.” 

“I have no desire to be involved in your death trap.” 

“If you don’t get in Parrish, I’m going to throw you in.” 

Adam gave him an exhausted look, but there was something glinting in his eyes that set fire to Ronan’s blood. It was the same feeling he got when he saw wild Gansey, when he raced Kavinsky on dirt roads at night, the winds whipping at his skin. Adam clambered into the grocery cart. Ronan grabbed the handle and started running, and as he picked up speed he heard Adam’s breath hitch in a way that set his heart buzzing. He jumped onto the cart, and they sped towards the edge of the carpark where metal poles and traffic cones stood, waiting to stop them. The cart crashed into one of the metal poles and tipped over, sending them both sprawling onto the asphalt. Ronan’s back surged with pain, but his heart was cartwheeling wildly in his chest. He let out a loud whoop and rolled his head to look at Adam, who was grinning brilliantly up at the sky. Adam met Ronan’s gaze, and despite the cuts on his chin and cheek, his eyes dazzled. 

“That was something,” he said, voice breathy. 

Ronan noticed the light freckles sprinkled across Adam’s nose. For a moment he felt lost. In time. In the moment. Like everything had stopped, and there was nothing else but the feel of the sun on his cheeks, and Adam’s tired eyes shining, his face frozen in that heart-stopping smile. 

And all Ronan could think of in that moment were two words.

_Oh fuck._

**Days until Adam Parrish leaves their lives for good: N/A**

 


End file.
